


a world of gods and men

by potato_writes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Brienne is the socialist hero we all need, Emphasis on the Bitter, F/M, Hadestown Spoilers, Insecurity, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Manipulation, Poverty, bastardization of Greek mythology, if you don't read the last three chapters you can pretend everything is Fine, not tagging the characters playing the fates but you probably know who they are anyways, post-apocalyptic setting, some fluffy moments but not many, the back half of this is really sad im so sorry, this fic spends a lot of time describing the weather for Plot Reasons, this is a tragedy even though no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potato_writes/pseuds/potato_writes
Summary: it’s a sad tale, it’s a tragedyin which there’s three Fates, a railroad line, a conflict between the gods, and a pair of lovers caught in the midst of it all; or the Hadestown AU of the author’s dreamsA/N: This fic is going on indefinite hiatus. It is NOT being abandoned.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Joanna Lannister/Tywin Lannister
Comments: 20
Kudos: 11





	1. Road To Hell

**Author's Note:**

> if I listen to the Hadestown OBCR on loop enough, this happens apparently.
> 
> if you don't know Hadestown, it's a Broadway musical based on the myth of Orpheus on Eurydice, which had (I think) three productions and a concept album before opening on Broadway in 2019, winning eight (8!) Tonys the same year. this fic is based off of the Broadway cast recording, so if you want to listen along (you should) I'd listen to that album (seriously it's really good you should listen to it even without this fic). if you already know the story, then you know where this fic is going (I'm warning you from the beginning that the ending is...not the happiest I've ever written or ever will write), and if you don't, well, this will definitely spoil the musical's ending for you (I mean, it's based on a really well known myth, so I can't be spoiling that much).
> 
> also you should really listen to Road To Hell at least, otherwise you'll miss out on what may, in fact, be the best trombone solo in all existence.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr as potatothecat, if you want to come yell at me there as well.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time there was a railroad line...
> 
> in which Catelyn introduces the story, there's a blizzard outside, and the readers miss out on a truly epic trombone solo

_Once upon a time there was a railroad line…_

The ramshackle building sits at the end of a long railroad track, acting as both railway station and gathering place for the people who huddle in worn buildings built in a loose circle around the station. While the last snowstorm of winter rages outside its flimsy walls, a fire burns brightly within, warming the room and illuminating the weary faces of the people gathered within. Here, at the end of the tracks that stretch away into oblivion, the citizens of what was once known as King’s Landing gather at the end of the day to drink away their worries and stresses, to laugh and sing and tell tales in order to fight off the bitter cold. Winter lasts longer every year. They need to have some way of countering its misery.

In the distance, far down the train tracks, a whistle blows, the sound piercing through the cold air and the soft rumble of voices from within the station. At the bar, a woman with long auburn hair raises her head, blue eyes sparking in the light of the fire as she turns her head towards the tracks just outside the door. Her entire being glows with an otherworldly light, marking her as different than any of the other patrons gathered in the station. All conversation grinds to a halt as she rises to her feet, eyes still trained on the window.

“Spring returns,” she says after a moment, turning to face the silent people of Westeros. “The Mother will be gracing us with her presence once more.”

She steps down from the bar and slowly walks over to a table by the fire, running one hand over the worn wood surface. A jar filled with water sits atop the table, a blossoming red carnation contained within. She gazes at the flower for a long moment, silently studying the only real colour in the room while the crowd watches silently. Most of them still reel from her pronouncement. It’s been a very long time since they saw spring.

At last, she sits in her usual seat by the fire, eyes scanning the crowd and boring into those who dare to return her gaze. “You wonder why,” she murmurs, her quiet words coming right before another whistle, closer than the last. “Spring seems foreign to most of you, after all these years of imbalance. The Stranger releases his wife later and later with every year that goes by, until all you know is a brief summer and lengthy winter. But that has changed, and if you are willing to listen I will tell you why that is.”

No one speaks, but several people in the crowd stir and shift to find more comfortable positions in the rickety wooden chairs. They have time to hear out her tale, and they’re all too curious to leave and miss out. If spring truly is returning, then they want to know what miracle has brought it back to their doorsteps. 

Her gaze sweeps over the crowd again before she smiles ever so slightly. “Good,” she says, voice little more than a whisper in the hushed room. “I am glad.”

A gust of wind batters the station as she raises her head and begins to speak. “Our world is a divided one,” she begins, eyes returning to the window and the tracks beyond it. “Gods and humans have existed in a tentative peace for thousands of years, and those of us here up above have our own balance between those in the realm of the Stranger, the Underworld. The Fates, the three sisters who govern us all, laid out our destinies long ago, and continue to control everything we do. They linger in the in-between, along the railroad line that takes those humans who falter down to the Underworld, haunting all those who pass by and driving even the bravest to desperation. It is their will that drives this tale, even if those who took part in it believe themselves to be masters of their own minds.”

She falls silent for a minute, then two, before shaking herself and continuing. “You all know that the seasons come and go with the Mother, the Lady Joanna who is wed to the Stranger himself. It is her absence which brings us these terrible winters, and her return on the train that brings us summer and sunlight year after year. Now, for the first time in many years, she returns to us at the rightful time, with spring held in the palm of her hand.

“Her husband waits down below, in the Underworld at the end of the railroad line. Tywin, the king of the mine, sits behind his workers and his wall and waits for his wife to return to him come autumn. And in the meanwhile, he builds up his empire in the Underworld, hoarding all its wealth until he forgets what matters most: the love he and the Lady Joanna share.”

Outside, the snow stops falling, and the clouds slowly begin to part. The woman smiles and turns her eyes to the watching crowd, who observe her without moving. “And of course, I am here to man the station, to guide those who wish to go below on their way down and to offer a few tidbits of wisdom for your journeys. I am the Crone, the Lady Catelyn, who guides your lost souls down to your final homes in the Underworld, in the service of Tywin who rules there. But us gods are not the only beings who walk this world, as you yourselves can easily prove.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the crowd, and Catelyn smiles once again. “The humans of Westeros linger up here, fighting their way through the harsh winters and celebrating even the briefest of summers. You persevere even with the imbalance that comes when the gods fight amongst themselves, and it is thanks to one of your own that the balance has been restored at long last.”

The crowd falls silent once more as Catelyn’s gaze turns somber. “Not too long ago, there was a young woman among your company, a young woman I took in as my ward. She was not the sort of woman you consider to be beautiful, and in fact most people found her quite ugly indeed. But she could sing like no one else could, with a voice so lovely it seemed to be a gift from the gods. It is her voice, and the songs she sang, that are of concern to our tale, along with one other: the young man who was her lover.”

She frowns down at the table, eyes sad and far away. “This young man lived his life in fear and starvation, running from town to town in the hopes of escaping his father’s oppressive arm. He was a demigod, you see, the son of Lord Tywin and an unknown woman from long ago, and wanted no part in his father’s Underworld empire. But hunger has a way of changing one’s mind all too easily, as many of you know, and even love may not be enough to sway someone desperate for comfort and food. His hunger would eventually become his downfall, along with that of the woman he loved so fiercely. His hunger is what led to the tragic tale I must now carry with me.

“But I am getting ahead of myself.” She surveys the crowd one last time, before glancing out the window to see the clearing skies. “For this is a love story, and a sad tale, a tragedy which many of you might have heard before. History tends to repeat itself after all, and this song has played many times before. But there is always something new to be learned from a familiar tale, and so I will tell this story once again in hopes that it will play out differently than it always does. I doubt it will, but who knows? Perhaps a time will come where the story can end differently, can be far less heartbreaking than it currently is. We will simply have to wait, and tell the tale as often as we can in the meantime, for what else do we have to entertain us during the lengthy winters the gods have brought upon us?”

_And brother, thus begins the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice!_


	2. Any Way The Wind Blows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eurydice was a hungry young girl...
> 
> in which we’re introduced to Jaime, the author bastardizes Greek mythology, and the Fates offer some unsolicited advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't actually know that much about Greek mythology, so I'm not fully certain on Eurydice's background in the original myth. I ended up partly going off her Hadestown background and partly making things up for Jaime's backstory here, but if any people who actually know the myth are reading this I apologize in advance for the mess I'm definitely making of the original myth. Any Way The Wind Blows is a great song, though, and it's absolutely worth listening to just to understand my endless love for Eva Noblezada.
> 
> Also, kudos to anyone who figures out who the Fates are in this. I never name them, so I didn't tag the characters, but they're all ASOIAF characters who you should probably recognize if I did my job correctly.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr as potatothecat, if you so desire.

_Eurydice was a hungry young girl  
A runaway from everywhere she’d ever been…_

Jaime draws to a halt at the top of a steep hill and lets out a long sigh as he stares down at the cluster of shacks sitting where the greatest city in Westeros once stood. A brief burst of green fire flashes through his mind’s eye while he catches his breath, but he forces it to the back of his mind and draws in another deep breath, steeling himself to walk down the hill and continue on to what was once King’s Landing.

A cold wind sweeps across the dreary landscape, and he clutches tighter to the tattered leather knapsack slung over his shoulders. He has so few belongings now; he can’t afford to lose any of them now.

 _You wouldn’t have had to worry about that if you’d stayed,_ the voice in his head that sounds far too much like his sister whispers. _You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, not if you went back._

He shakes his head quickly, refusing to entertain that idea any further. _No._ He won’t go back. He can’t, not after what happened, not after he realized there are some things even family bonds are not enough to earn forgiveness for.

But he’s so _hungry_ , and it’s been ages since he last slept through an entire night. He hasn’t so much as seen a bed since he left the last town behind. The promise of comfort, of a full belly for the first time in years, is becoming more and more tempting as time goes by and he keeps running, moving from town to town in a futile attempt to escape the past.

He readjusts his grip on the bag and takes a step forwards, then stops and huffs out a long, exasperated breath. Of course. Of _course_ they won’t leave him along, not even here at the end of the railroad line.

Another gust of wind swirls around him, stirring up a cloud of dust and obscuring his view of the town far below. As the wind dies down, three figures step out of the dust, a trio of women clad in identical grey gowns with feet that leave no footprints in the dirt.

“You again,” he says heavily when none of them speak. “Do you have no one else to bother? No other people to hound to the very ends of the world? Surely you must be tired of tormenting me by now.”

One of the women, with long white-blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, steps closer to him, a cold glint in her violet eyes. “There’s nothing for you here,” she says, her voice melodious and smooth. “No food, no shelter, no hope of rest.”

“Nothing,” agrees the second woman, her dark hair fluttering in a breeze he can’t feel. “You should move on. Keep running, even though there’s nowhere for you to go.”

The third woman steps forward as well, green eyes cold and fierce as they bore into him. “Do you really want to stay so close to the railroad tracks? Do you really think there’s anywhere you can stay where we won’t find you, where _he_ won’t find you?”

“There isn’t,” they chorus, three musical voices blending into one. “You can’t hide, and you can’t stay. Why do you even bother? Why do you even try?”

 _Because you win if I stop trying,_ he thinks, though he doesn’t say so aloud. He’s learned it’s best to ignore the Fates over the years. Acknowledging them means admitting they have power over him, and if he admits that he might as well give in and go back.

“It’s foolish to keep running,” the dark-haired Fate says, her lips quirking up in what might have been a smile if it had reached her eyes. “You’ll never be welcome, no matter where you go.”

“Never,” her sisters echo, moving forward until they form a circle around him. “There’s nowhere for you. No one for you.”

He lowers his head and begins to walk down the hill, brushing past the Fate with white hair as he does. She turns and follows him, however, her sisters mere steps behind. Nothing surprising there, though. If they’re willing to chase him across all of Westeros, then they’ll be more than eager to pursue him down this last hill.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for, not here,” the green-eyed Fate purrs in his ear, reaching for his arm before he moves sharply away from her. “You won’t find it anywhere, not when you don’t know what it is you’re trying to find.”

 _Food. Shelter. A safe place to spend the night._ The cluster of houses that was once King’s Landing likely won’t have any of those things, or if it does there won’t be any to spare for a lonely traveller arriving during the bleakest part of winter. But he has to try. He’s running out of other options, and he’s travelled for too long to give up now. 

He’s just so _exhausted_ , so tired of running. Tired of the Fates dogging his every step, tired of fighting for every scrap of food, every piece of firewood. Winter lasts longer every year, and eventually he won’t be able to scavenge enough supplies to survive out in the open. Eventually, he’ll be caught off guard, and all of this fleeing will have been for naught. 

But that won’t be today. And if he’s lucky, it won’t be tomorrow either.

The white-haired Fate steps into his path, forcing him to move around her. “You can stay here for a while, can briefly rest at the end of the line. But what will you do when the food runs out and there’s no sign of spring on the horizon? Will you stay? Or will you keep running like the coward you are?”

“You’ll run,” her sisters answer, turning their piercing gazes to his face. “You’ll run like you always do.”

“There’s nowhere for you to stay,” the green-eyed one says, smug and preening.

“There’s nowhere for you to go,” the dark-haired one adds, folding her arms as she speaks.

“And you can’t hide forever,” they say as one, halting as they reach the base of the hill. “He’ll find you someday, somewhere. You can’t outrun a god, and you can’t defeat the seasons. Someday, they’ll get the better of you, and there’ll be nothing you can do then…”

Their voices fade away as he keeps walking, aiming for the railway station at the edge of the cluster of houses. He doesn’t look back to see if they’re gone. It doesn’t matter. They’ll be back soon enough, telling him more truths he already knows all too well. 

His years on the run have taught him many hard lessons. The hardest one, the one he still struggles to accept some days, is that the Fates are right. He can only run for so long. He isn’t welcome in any of the towns he visits. No one wants to take on the risks of hosting a runaway demigod. And why would they? Times are hard enough as it is.

The longer winter drags on, the more unwelcoming people are. And this particular winter is one of the longest yet. 

He raises his head to look at the railway station and sees two figures standing by the door, looking out at the tracks that go on for what seems like forever. They don’t, of course. He knows better than most what lies at the end of the line. But that knowledge hasn’t helped him any. All it’s done is kept him running across Westeros, hiding from a force far more powerful than he is.

As he nears the station, the figures turn to look in his direction, and he recognizes the red hair and somber eyes of the Crone. She studies him with a sad gaze as he approaches, as if she already knows why he’s here. Her companion is unfamiliar to him, and he narrows his eyes ever so slightly at the tall woman with the mismatched features and the brilliant blue eyes. Who is she to have befriended the Crone?

And why does he have a feeling that meeting this woman may be one of the most significant moments of his entire life so far?

_In the end, you’re better off alone  
Any way the wind blows…_


	3. Come Home With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You wanna talk to her?_
> 
> in which we meet Brienne, our heroes meet each other, and Brienne has much better instincts than her counterpart in the source material does

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this song is hilarious to me because the first thing Orpheus does (in Hadestown) is ask Eurydice to come home with him and tell her he intends to marry her, all before he's even told her his name. Brienne will not being doing this, because it's highly unlikely for her character, but I think it's funny so you get to hear about it anyways.
> 
> also going to note that my characterization of Catelyn is very different than how the show portrays Hermes, which I have reasons for that I shall not explain now. everyone's backstory is different than in Hadestown as well, but you should probably expect that after last chapter.
> 
> come find me on Tumblr as potatothecat.

_Oh, a liar, and a player too!  
I’ve met too many man like you…_

Brienne has never seen such a handsome man before in her life.

She stands next to Catelyn on the rickety porch of the railway station, and together they watch the strange, impossibly handsome man make his way through the town towards them. They’ve been visited by strangers before. King’s Landing still acts as a port for those hoping to flee across the ocean, and others come to travel down the railway line into the unknown in hopes that things will be better at the end of it. But she’s never seen Catelyn so fascinated by one of their visitors until now, and she’s never been this interested in a visiting stranger until this man walked into King’s Landing with a single bag carried over his shoulder.

“He’s a captivating one, isn’t he?” Catelyn asks her, amusement in her voice, and Brienne flushes upon realizing that she’s been staring. “I don’t blame you, child. It’s hard to resist a man like that.”

For a moment, Catelyn looks very far away, and Brienne wonders if she’s remembering her own husband, long gone by now. She doesn’t ask, though. She’s lived with Catelyn too long for that.

She continues to watch the man instead, taking in his perfectly shaped features and dust-filled golden hair. He looks weary, even more so than the ordinary travellers who pass through the railway station, and she can’t help but wonder how far away he came from. He must have come a long way, if he’s that tired from his journey.

“Who is he?” she asks Catelyn, who only smiles slightly.

“You should talk to him,” comes the reply, causing Brienne to glance sharply at the woman beside her. “I think you might find him of interest.”

Brienne hesitates for another moment, keeping a wary eye on Catelyn. The older woman sends her another serene smile, seemingly beyond whatever melancholy possessed her a few moments before. She dips her head to Brienne in a shallow nod, the final encouragement she needs to step off the porch and approach the stranger.

“Hello,” she says carefully, her handful of interactions with the last traveller who passed by replaying in her mind as she speaks. “I haven’t seen you around King’s Landing before.”

The man comes to a stop in front of her and raises an eyebrow, causing her to tense up in preparation for what his next words are sure to be. “You still call it that?” he asks instead of saying what she’d expected, and she nearly takes a step back in surprise. “There haven’t been kings here for a long time now. I thought you’d have updated the name.”

Brienne frowns, but there’s no time to consider why _that’s_ his first statement. “It’s easier to keep a name that people already know,” she replies. “What brings you here?”

He sighs heavily, running one hand through the golden curls of his hair. She quickly forces her eyes away from his hand as he does so, knowing that Catelyn’s watching from a little ways away. “To be honest,” he says slowly, “I was hoping to find shelter here for a little while. It’s hard living life on the road, and my supplies are beginning to run low.”

“We don’t have much here in terms of supplies either,” she warns him, gesturing with one hand to the hastily-built houses around them. “The long winter has seen to that.”

His shoulders slump, and she hastens to reassure him before his dejection inspires more guilt in her. “But we still have some stored away. It should be fine for you to stay here for as long as you want.”

At that, his eyes narrow and he takes a step back. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he demands, suspicion in his tone.

She gapes at him for a moment, eyes wide. This may be the most baffling person she has ever met, and some strange people come to visit them here by the railroad tracks. “Why are _you_ being so nice to _me_?” she fires back, the only thing that comes to mind in the heat of the moment.

Now it’s his turn to gape at her. “I—what do you mean? I’m not used to people showing me any kindness without there being an ulterior motive behind it. That’s…that’s all I meant.”

“Well, people aren’t kind to _me_ unless it’s part of some elaborate way to insult me,” she tells him, folding her arms across her chest. “And you’ve done nothing so far to prove that you’re any different.”

He continues to stare at her with a baffled expression, and she shifts uncertainly as the silence drags on. In the background, she can hear Catelyn laughing, and her face flushes at the sound. 

Finally, he laughs as well, his entire demeanour relaxing when he does. “I apologize for that. It seems we both have good reason to be suspicious of other people, and that’s led to us getting off to a bad start.” He extends a hand to her, a tentative smile crossing his face. “I’m Jaime.”

 _Jaime._ It’s a good name, a lyrical name that would sound lovely when put into song. She’s still uncertain about this stranger, but she reaches out and shakes his hand anyways. “I’m Brienne,” she replies, vaguely aware that Catelyn has drawn closer to them and now stands a few steps away from them both. 

The stranger—Jaime—nods slowly, his gaze flickering from Brienne to Catelyn and back again. “Brienne,” he repeats, as if testing her name out. “Do you live here in King’s Landing, Brienne?”

“I do.” She gestures back at the railway station. “After my father died, Catelyn took me in, and I stay here at the station with her.”

Jaime’s gaze returns to Catelyn for a moment, his eyes widening ever so slightly. “I see.”

They fall into a stilted silence after that, and Brienne shuffles her feet on the ground. He keeps studying her with those piercing green eyes, his scrutiny too intense for her to be comfortable.

“Tell him what you do,” Catelyn says abruptly, and they both turn to look at her in surprise. She looks at Brienne with an encouraging smile, tilting her head. “Go on.”

Brienne sighs and chances another look at Jaime. “I’m a musician,” she tells him reluctantly. Why does Catelyn want her to share this information with a near-stranger? She’s never done that with any of their other visitors. “I play the guitar. And sometimes…sometimes I write songs.”

“Songs?” Jaime asks, arching an eyebrow. “That’s impressive.”

“Tell him about the one you’re currently working on,” Catelyn encourages, and Brienne represses another sigh. There’s a reason she hasn’t told anyone else about her current project.

“I’m trying to write a song that will repair the imbalance of the world,” she says, avoiding Jaime’s gaze as she speaks. “One that, when I sing it, will heal the wounds of the world, and then spring will come again. Or so I hope.”

“You think you can bring spring back?” he asks breathlessly, and she looks up to see awe and tentative hope on his face. “After all these years?”

“I don’t know.” Her song isn’t finished yet, isn’t anywhere close to being done. There’s no way of knowing yet if it will have any sort of impact. “But I hope it will. Too many people are going to suffer and starve if it doesn’t work, and I can’t just sit by and let that happen.” 

Jaime stares at her for another moment. “I didn’t think there were any people like you left in Westeros,” he says eventually, still looking awestruck by her earlier words. “People selfless enough to dedicate their time and effort to finding a way to help as many others as they can. In all my travels, you’re the first person I’ve encountered who’s tried anything like that.”

She ducks her head, face flushing at his compliment. “Catelyn says my voice and ability are gifts from the gods. I don’t know if she’s right, but I have to make use of them somehow.”

There’s another brief lull in the conversation, and then Jaime grins, his smile lighting up his entire face and impossibly making him even _more_ handsome than normal. “You seem like a fascinating person, Brienne,” he tells her, not noticing how she’s been struck dumb by his beauty in this moment. “I don’t think I’ll mind staying here too much, not if it means I get to know you better.”

Her face must be completely red by now, but she does her best to return his smile. “I look forward to it,” she replies, forcing herself to look away from him before she says something foolish.

Her gaze lands on Catelyn, causing her to frown when she realizes that her guardian is _smirking_. Why is Catelyn acting so odd, and why does Brienne have a feeling that her tentative comradely with Jaime is exactly what her guardian wants?

She can’t dwell on that, though. Winter still has a tight grip on Westeros, and there’s a great deal of work to do even if she didn’t have a song to work on as well as a guest to help settle in. 

_A song to fix what’s wrong  
Take what’s broken, make it whole…_


	4. Wedding Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Lover, tell me if you can..._
> 
> in which our heroes ruminate on the future, Brienne shows off her songwriting skills, and Jaime experiences Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite the title of this chapter, there are no weddings occurring in it.

_Lover, tell me if you can  
Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?_

The Blackwater River still flows even in the heart of winter, though ice floes in the bay mean the water runs much more slowly than in summer. Few fish venture into the river during such cold weather, though, so the people of King’s Landing solely rely on it as a water source until the fish return with summer. Makeshift irrigation systems mean there’s no need to walk to the river itself to collect water, but during his weeks in King’s Landing Jaime’s come to learn that people will walk down there anyways so they can briefly escape from the drudgery of trying to survive in winter. With so little time to entertain themselves, they must seize any moment they can to escape.

Which is why he and Brienne are currently sitting on a rock a little ways back from the riverbank, watching the water flow past and gazing at the railway bridge that lies a mile or so upstream. 

“It’s so peaceful out here,” Brienne tells him after a while, still gazing out over the river before them. “When you look out at the river, it’s easy to forget how low our supplies are getting, and that winter shows no signs of ending any time soon.”

“Do you come here often?” Jaime asks her, shifting on the rock in order to see her better. He’s been staying with Brienne and Catelyn for six weeks now, but this is the first time that she’s taken him down to the riverbank with her.

“Not as often as I would like. But if I can get away for a bit, it’s an excellent place to be alone with my thoughts for a while. I find the songs come more easily to me if I’ve been down here recently. It’s why I wanted to walk down here today.”

He nods slowly, looking back out over the water. A part of him desperately wants to ask her more about the songs she writes, but recalling her reluctance to discuss the topic on the day he arrived keeps him from opening his mouth. Still, he can’t help but be curious, particularly with her mention of a song powerful enough to right the wrongs of their world and return spring to Westeros. 

“I can see why you like it here,” he says in lieu of voicing his thoughts. “It’s the sort of peaceful that makes me want to stay forever.”

He immediately clamps his mouth shut, keeping his eyes fixed on the far bank of the river as Brienne shoots a glance in his direction. _I can’t stay here forever, no matter how much I want to. Why did I say that, knowing the Fates will come and drive me out any day now?_

“That statement implies that you intend to live forever,” Brienne says after a moment, perhaps sensing that he didn’t intend to voice that particular thought aloud. “And although we haven’t known each other for that long, I have yet to see you demonstrate any inclination towards immortality.”

He laughs at that, ignoring the voice in his head that whispers, _but wouldn’t you like to stay here, especially with her?_ “I can’t imagine wanting immortality anyways,” he responds once his laughter dies down. “It certainly hasn’t done Lady Catelyn any favours in regards to her life.”

She inclines her head, turning to face forwards once again. “No, immortality hasn’t given her an easy life in any way. I imagine most of the gods feel the same way.”

 _You wouldn’t say that if you met Aerys,_ Jaime thinks, before pausing. No, Brienne might be right on this matter as well. Aerys most definitely hadn’t though that way at all, but his status as a god had done nothing to ease his descent into paranoia and fear. If he really considers it, Aerys’s immortality may have even contributed to worsening that descent.

They lapse into silence again, the quiet afternoon only disturbed by the sound of water flowing over the rocks at the bottom of the riverbed. A lone seabird circles over Blackwater Bay, calling out mournfully before flying back towards the ocean. Beside them, a long-dead flower lies slumped on the ground, the petals turning black and grey with rot and ice. It’s miraculous that the plant has managed to retain its shape, considering that winter’s stretched on for so many months.

“What brought you to be Catelyn’s ward?” he asks all of a sudden as the thought comes to mind. “From what I’ve heard, most gods tend not to involve themselves too closely in human affairs, at least on the personal level.” He knows better than most how much they like to interfere on a mass scale, but Brienne doesn’t need to know that.

She shrugs, brilliant eyes turning sad. “I used to live on an island not too far from here, back in the time… _before_. But when the winters started getting longer, we weren’t able to sustain ourselves there anymore, and almost all of the islanders boarded boats and headed for the mainland.” For a moment, as she stares off into the distance, she appears to be looking back into the past, looking at her younger self leaving behind the place that had once been her home. “Most of us survived the crossing, and we settled in what used to be the Stormlands thinking things would be better on the mainland.”

“But they weren’t,” he supplies, having seen the very events she speaks of play out in other regions before. 

“No, they weren’t,” she agrees, her voice somber. “Nearly a third of us died of starvation in that first winter. It just went on for so long, and there weren’t enough resources in the area to keep that many of us fed. Eventually, when summer came, we split into four groups and headed off in different directions, hoping that smaller parties would have a better chance of survival. I have no idea what happened to the other groups, but my father led one of them up towards King’s Landing, all the while desperately praying that things here weren’t quite as terrible as all the stories said they were.”

He’s unable to keep from wincing at that remark. He was in King’s Landing when everything went down. If anything, the stories underplayed how bad it really was.

“We never made it here, though. It was a long journey, and we were on foot with almost no supplies when we set out. One by one, we began to lose members of our party, mostly to starvation or to the elements. Several people were dragged off by wolves when we took a detour in the Riverlands, and I lost my father to frostbite when winter returned. I almost died myself when I got separated from the ten or so people who remained with no food or anything to keep me safe. But I got lucky, luckier than the others. Catelyn was wandering the Riverlands at the time, and she happened to stumble across me after a day. She took me to King’s Landing when I told her about my journey, and we’ve been here ever since. I think she took a liking to me because she heard me singing from a distance in order to keep myself occupied. It might explain why she’s so encouraging of my music, even when it could keep me from helping find food.”

She falls silent after that, her gaze dropping to the dead flower on the ground. Jaime wants to reach out and comfort her, but holds back. Do they know each other well enough for that?

“Do you think you’ll stay here with Catelyn, or do you plan to eventually move on?” he asks eventually, once the silence begins to grow uncomfortable. “Whether or not your plan to bring back spring succeeds.”

“If Catelyn’s willing to let me stay with her, then I’ll stay,” she says softly, still looking at the ground. “My family’s dead. I don’t have anywhere else to go. Unless she decides to move on and look for her own family, I’ll remain by her side.”

He nods at her response, ignoring the pang her words send through him. Soon enough, the Fates will come for him, and he’ll be forced to move on from King’s Landing, running to the next town in hopes of another brief respite from the constant running, the persistent hunger. If Brienne intends to stay in King’s Landing, they’ll likely never see each other again.

“What about you?” she asks in turn, raising her gaze from the dead flower to look at him. “Do you intend to stay as well, or is this only a temporary stop for you?”

“I’ll likely move on soon enough,” he replies, each word heavy on his tongue. “You won’t have to worry about me taking too many of your supplies for much longer.” 

She frowns at that, her cheeks turning red even if her eyes are unreadable. “You…you know you could stay, right? I know we don’t have that many supplies, but it’s more than you’ll have out there on your own. And Catelyn likes you. She wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

 _I can’t stay, though._ No matter how tempting Brienne’s offer sounds, it’s not possible for him to linger in any one place for long. Every time he tries, the past catches up with him and drives him out. Besides, he doubts Catelyn actually likes him. As one of the gods, she knows exactly what happened as well as his role in it all. Either she sees things in a different light than everyone else does, or she’s very good at pretending in front of Brienne. 

“We’ll have to wait and see what summer brings, I suppose,” he says instead of voicing his concerns. “It’d be nice to stay a little longer for once, though. I’ve been travelling for a long time.”

She smiles ever so slightly at that, causing a burst of warmth in Jaime’s chest. He hasn’t been here very long, but it’s been long enough for him to realize that Brienne’s smiles are infrequent at best, practically non-existent at worst. To be the cause of one…

“Tell me about your song,” he finds himself saying out of nowhere. “The one you say is going to right the balance in Westeros and return spring to us.”

“I don’t know if it will for certain,” she corrects, reaching down to pick up the dead flower. “I have to finish it before I can ascertain that. And it’s not really a _song_ yet, just snatches of an idea. A few pieces of a melody and a chorus, that’s all. I’m not even sure what it’s going to be about at present.”

All of a sudden, Jaime’s struck with an intense desire to hear this not-really-a-song that she’s writing, a desire even stronger than his desire to stay in King’s Landing, even stronger than his desire to stay with _her_. “I want to hear it,” he tells her, smiling at the very thought. “I know it’s not finished, but I still want to hear what you’ve written so far.”

She flushes and looks down at the dead flower clutched in her hands. “It’s really nothing special so far. I don’t think…”

“I want to hear it,” he says again, more forcefully this time. “I don’t care how unfinished it is.”

Brienne sighs and sits up straighter on the rock, staring back out at the river. Then she begins to sing, and Jaime goes perfectly still.

The melody she sings is simple and wordless, one Jaime could swear he’s heard somewhere before. Yet he’s captivated all the same as she continues to sing, as a chill rushes through him and a warm gust of wind stirs the air, warming him for the first time in months. A thousand other voices join her in her song, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once. The dead flower in her hand begins to glow red as she sings, the dead and rotting petals falling away as new ones grow in their place, until she holds a red carnation in her hand, fully in bloom and one of the few spots of colour in the barren winter landscape.

Her voice fades away, but it takes him another minute to shake free of his trance. She’s looking at the carnation, turning it back and forth between her fingers. The dead petals from the flower lie next to her on the rock, proof that he really did watch a dead plant come back to life while she sang.

He realizes he’s gaping and snaps his mouth shut. “How?” he asks at last, his voice quiet. “How is…you really can return spring to us, can’t you?”

“I suppose,” she replies, her words equally hushed. “If the song can restore life to a dead flower, it can restore spring to Westeros once it’s done without any issues. Or so I hope. We all need these interminable winters to end, or everyone will starve.”

“You have to finish it,” he urges, heart leaping in his chest at the thought. “If it can do this while a fragment of an idea, then imagine what it can do once it takes shape. Brienne, this song could change everything!”

She smiles shyly and ducks her head, staring down at the now-blossoming carnation in her hands. “I hope so. We can’t keep going on like this.”

“No, we really can’t,” he agrees. King’s Landing is better off than most after years of carefully gathering food before every winter, but a harsher year than most could still devastate them, even with all of their precautions and planning. If the winters continue to lengthen, everyone in Westeros will die.

But Brienne might have a way to save them. If her song succeeds in doing what it’s meant to, then there will be far less need to stockpile for long winters. The cities can grow again, and people like him can stop wandering from town to town, desperately hoping to survive for just one more day. 

If she succeeds, there might even be a chance that he can stay. He could finally stop running from his past, and he could stay here with her, fulfilling the intense desire he feels to do so that he doesn’t quite understand.

After all these years on the run, he’d like to have the chance to stay in one place, especially if he’s fortunate enough to stay with someone like Brienne. Hasn’t he earned that by now?

“We should get back,” she says after a while, standing up with the carnation still in her hand. “Catelyn will be wondering where we are.”

He nods and rises to his feet as well, and they walk back towards King’s Landing side by side.

_Times being what they are  
Hard and getting harder all the time…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering what Brienne's song sounds like, check out the [actual Wedding Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9itu7pqhwY) from Hadestown (seeing as I am too lazy to come up with my own tune, I will be stealing the one that appears in the musical).


	5. Epic I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Where'd you get that melody?_
> 
> in which Brienne tells Catelyn a story she already knows, the author cops out of actually writing a song, and everyone reflects on the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back.

_A song of love from long ago  
Long time since I heard it though…_

An icy wind whips through King’s Landing, and Brienne shivers as she sits on the porch outside the railway station, her guitar lying across her lap. Jaime and Catelyn are both inside, cleaning up after the evening’s gathering, but she’s had an urge to write since conversing with Jaime by the river in the afternoon. So she slipped away as soon as she could, and now she’s staring out at the railroad tracks, a melody playing on an endless loop in her thoughts.

As the wind dies down, she lifts her guitar and settles her fingers on the instrument’s neck. Slowly, she begins to strum, playing a series of chords to match the melody she sang to Jaime this afternoon.

She’s still struggling to wrap her head around what happened by the river. It doesn’t seem real, that her song made a long-dead flower return to life without even being complete. But the carnation is still thriving, sitting in a water-filled jar inside the station, its vibrant red petals one of the few spots of colour in an otherwise dark room. So it must have happened, no matter how surreal it appears now that she’s back in King’s Landing.

She continues to play, closing her eyes and letting the music flow through her to the strings of her instrument. The instrumentation comes to her easily. The lyrics, however, still evade her, just as they have for months. If only she knew what to write about. Maybe then the words would come to her. Maybe then she’d be able to finish the song and save the people of Westeros from starvation in these increasingly lengthy winters.

Footsteps sound behind her on the porch, and she turns her head to see Catelyn stepping out the station door. The older woman stops short when she hears what Brienne’s playing, a deep furrow appearing between her brows.

“That melody,” Catelyn says carefully after a moment. “Where did you get that melody from?”

Brienne shrugs, lowering her right hand from the guitar strings. “I don’t know. It just appeared in my mind one day, almost like a half-forgotten childhood memory resurfacing after years of being buried. Almost like I knew it from somewhere, even if I can’t think of where.”

Catelyn sighs gently and comes to sit beside Brienne on the porch steps. “You do know it from somewhere. It’s an old melody, familiar to those of us who know it. But it’s been a long time since I heard that song. A very long time.”

“You know that melody?” Brienne shoots a look at her guardian, who’s staring off into the distance. “From where?”

Catelyn smiles sadly, her gaze turning to the railroad track. “I do. Before I walked the world with the humans, I heard it up in the seven heavens. It was the embodiment of the love between two of my fellow gods, Tywin and Joanna, the Stranger and the Mother. Do you remember their story?”

“I do.”

“Tell it again, then. Remind me how that love began, and then tell me where and how it went wrong.”

Brienne pauses, her eyes following Catelyn’s to the tracks. “There are seven gods worshipped by most of Westeros: the Father, the Mother, the Smith, the Stranger, the Warrior, the Maiden, and the Crone. For a long time, six of these gods stayed up in the seven heavens and rarely interfered with human affairs, while the seventh, the Stranger, did the same in the Underworld, down at the end of the railroad line. But something changed, many years ago, and now most of the gods are missing or gone.” She stops and frowns, turning to Catelyn. “What happened to the others? You never said.”

“They scattered far and wide,” Catelyn replies, looking mournful. Her eyes appear impossibly old as memories flood them. “The Stranger retreated to the Underworld, with the Mother torn between his realm and the railway station here in King’s Landing. The Father tore himself to pieces when the weight of his immortality became too much, taking my husband, the Smith, with him. The Warrior and the Maiden fled together, and no one knows what became of them. And I, the Crone, wandered Westeros for a long time until I came to settle here, unwilling to wander for any longer.” 

She sighs and raises her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “The children of the gods are equally scattered. Three became Fates, haunting whoever they can find and driving them to darker and darker choices with their every word. My own children…who knows if I shall ever see them again? If I am unlucky, they died with their father or have perished in the time since. If I am lucky, then they became wanderers much like I once was, and maybe someday they will happen to wander onto my doorstep.”

“Like Jaime did,” Brienne agrees, “though he’s human.”

Catelyn smiles again, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yes, like Jaime. But that’s not the point, not really.”

Brienne nods, lowering her guitar to rest across her lap again as she continues speaking. “Back in that time before the gods scattered far and wide, Lord Tywin, the Stranger, fell in love with the Mother, Lady Joanna, when he saw her walking in a flourishing garden, gathering flowers to bring back to the seven heavens. He pined for her from afar for a long while, until the next time his fellow gods asked him to give them counsel in their lands high above. There, in the sunlight that never turns to darkness, he asked her to marry him and come down with him into the Underworld, to sit by his side as his queen.”

“Go on,” Catelyn urges her when Brienne’s words falter. “You know the tale.”

“Lady Joanna, despite being made for sunlight and bright places, quickly fell in love with both her husband and his sunless, dark kingdom. But up here in Westeros, her absence made winter settle over the entire land. All of the flowers she loved so dearly withered and died without her, and the people of Westeros went to the other gods and begged for aid when it became clear that this winter was never going to end.”

 _If only we could do that now,_ she thinks ruefully. _If only the gods hadn’t destroyed themselves all those years ago, and we could plead our case to them just as we were once able to._

“The other gods agreed that something must be done,” Brienne continues, “and they sent the Smith down to treat with Tywin and Joanna. He explained the plight of the humans to them, and they argued on behalf of their own love. Eventually, though, an accord was reached, and all three consented to a deal that would see Joanna spend half of each year up above in Westeros, bringing sunlight and flowers, and the other half down in the Underworld with her husband, leaving the humans in winter for much less time.”

“The seasons came from that deal,” Catelyn adds. “Spring arrives with Joanna, autumn comes with her departure. Our harvests, our storing of food, it all depends on her travels up and down the railroad line.”

“The people quickly adjusted to their new reality,” Brienne says, continuing the tale. “And soon enough, they settled into a rhythm of growing and harvesting, one which allowed them to thrive and develop. And the love of the gods grew with their civilization, resulting in…that song?”

Catelyn inclines her head. “Close. The song was the one Tywin sang in the garden to try and win Joanna’s love. Or so I was told at the time. But all of this was long ago, back when the gods and the humans were in harmony rather than in discord, back when everyone sang the same tune rather than a million different splintered songs.” She sighs heavily, memories of the past filling her eyes. “Now we are here, and nothing is the same anymore.”

“But that can be fixed, right?” Brienne asks, sending a worried glance in her guardian’s direction. “If this discord is repaired, maybe all will be right in the world once again.”

“We can only hope,” Catelyn murmurs, before rising to her feet and placing a hand on Brienne’s shoulder. “Continue writing as much as you can. I have more faith in your song than I have had in any other possible solution prior to it, but it will not work if it remains half-written or incomplete. Until then, know that you have my full support.”

She slips back into the station, leaving Brienne alone to stare at the unending railroad line. 

_At least I know what it will be about, now._ The love between Tywin and Joanna began this whole affair, she muses as another gust of wind sweeps past. Catelyn described it as deep and passionate, a force powerful enough to reshape the world and create the seasons. Yet, somewhere along the line, something went wrong. What could have happened to distort a love like that? How could something so pure and strong become twisted enough to destroy nearly all of Westeros?

“I have to keep writing,” she whispers into the night, clutching her guitar tightly in her hands. “If Catelyn says it’s the best chance we have, then I have to finish it. And Jaime agreed with her, so it must be important. They can’t both be wrong.”

 _But how?_ She knows how the tale begins, but not where it goes wrong. And how can she write about such a passionate love when she’s never known it for herself, and likely never will?

She sighs and shakes her head, rising to her feet in order to head back inside. For a moment, she pauses outside the door, guitar in hand and her gaze on the stars.

Somewhere in the distance, at the far end of the railroad line, a train whistle blows, echoing loud and piercing in the still and silent night.

_But that was long ago  
Before we were on this road…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in Hadestown, Epic I is the first time we hear Orpheus's song, but I lack the ability to write songs and refuse to simply poach the actual Epic lyrics because I do have some dignity. also there's literally no way I could write something that measures up to what's in the show because unlike Anais Mitchell I am but a measly mortal unworthy to write the music of the gods.
> 
> posting this at four in the morning because I can and also because I might be climbing a mountain later today.
> 
> find me on Tumblr as potatothecat.


	6. Livin' It Up On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On the road to hell there was a lot of waiting..._
> 
> in which summer returns to Westeros, Joanna is introduced, and everyone has a good time for once in this story.

_She’s never early, always late  
These days she never stays for long…_

The people of King’s Landing have grown accustomed to gathering at the railway station in order to celebrate the arrival of summer, and this particular year is no exception. For the first time in Jaime’s stay there, the station is filled with chatter and excitement. Everyone is buzzing over the arrival of the train, the arrival of summer at long last.

Catelyn stands at the front of the room by the bar, smiling broadly at the gathered crowd before her. Jaime hovers to the side for a moment, uncertain of where he should go, until Brienne grabs his hand and drags him over to join her at Catelyn’s side.

The train whistle blows again, much closer than the first blast that woke everyone the evening before. Now it’s close enough that the sound of the train rumbling over the tracks is audible to everyone in the station, close enough that the whistle blast rattles the shaky foundations upon which the station is built. 

As Jaime follows Brienne towards the front of the room, he hears snatches of conversation from the people they pass. Their excitement is palpable in both their words and their demeanours, the combined delight at the imminent arrival of summer enough to fill the room to its brim and spill out onto the streets around them.

“The Stranger has released his wife at long last!” one young man with the somber look of the former North says, eyes sparkling despite the set features of his face.

An older woman with the dark eyes and curly hair typical of what was once Dorne claps him on the shoulder, smiling kindly. “Didn’t I tell you that good things will come if you just wait?” she says, causing a resounding cheer to erupt from those around her.

Further on, a young girl with dark skin and curly black hair bounces up and down in place, a brilliant smile illuminating her entire face. “Summer’s coming!” she exclaims, turning to a woman who can only be her mother. “Did you hear that, Mama? Summer’s almost here!”

Her mother smiles warmly down at her daughter, running a hand through the young girl’s curls. “I did hear,” she says in response, her joy obvious in her voice. “It may be as late as ever, but it’s here.”

Catelyn turns and embraces both Brienne and Jaime when they finally join her at the front of the room. “It seems our patience has paid off yet again,” she tells them, gesturing to where the train is rolling to a halt outside of the station. “The Mother has returned to us once again, carrying summer with her in her suitcase.”

Brienne turns to Jaime at that, her eyes sparkling with such pure, unfettered joy that he’s momentarily struck speechless. “I know you plan on leaving us soon, but please say you’ll stay for summer at least. That way we can send you off with plenty of food, enough to carry you through most of the next winter.”

He should say no. There’s no way he can stay here in King’s Landing forever. But the Fates won’t bother him during summer, and he really does need to prepare supplies before he sets off yet again. And anyways, how can he say no to Brienne when she’s looking at him like this, with such happiness and contentment in her gaze?

“Of course,” he tells her, returning her smile as best he can. “I can wait to move on until winter comes.”

She smiles at that, so broad and carefree. His heart stutters briefly in his chest, and in his peripheral vision he can see Catelyn smirking ever so slightly. 

Before he can respond, the door opens. A woman stands framed against the sunlight in the doorway, a suitcase gripped in her hand. She wears a white fur coat over a knee-length green dress, and her golden-brown hair falls in tight curls around her shoulders. Bright flowers crown her head as she steps forward, placing the suitcase down beside the door and shrugging her coat off to drape it over the nearest chair. 

“You’re late,” Catelyn calls, stepping forward as the door swings shut. “Again.”

The new arrival tosses her head. “Yes, well, tell that to my husband,” she replies, lifting her suitcase from the floor to put it on the table next to her. “He’d much rather I stay with him the entire year in the Underworld, and without the Father around to ensure he obeys he’s begun to demand far too much of my time.”

Jaime winces at her implication that the Father’s presence was all that kept the seasons in balance, even if he knows it wasn’t directed at him. But he couldn’t let Aerys keep going the way he had. The consequences of that would’ve been far worse than the mismatched seasons, even though those are taking their own toll on the people of Westeros.

Catelyn smiles wryly as her fellow goddess finishes speaking. “Well, Lady Joanna? What have you brought for us today?” she asks after a pause, one hand sweeping about her to encompass everyone gathered around her in the railway station.

Joanna returns Catelyn’s smile, her eyes sharp and glinting as she opens the suitcase and reaches inside. “After too much time spent down below, I could use a drink. And so, I believe, could all the rest of you. It is summertime, after all, and I brought plenty to go around!”

The people erupt at her words, cheering and laughing together as Joanna pulls bottle after bottle of summer wine out of her bag and urges the gathered humans to pass them around the room. Brienne gestures for Jaime to follow her over to the bar, where she takes out cups from beneath the counter and hands them to him. 

“Pass those around,” she instructs him when he raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Not everyone wants to drink straight out of the bottle.”

He nods and turns to wend his way through the crowd, handing cups to anyone who asks for one. Everyone he passes is smiling and happy in a way he hasn’t seen since the previous summer, when he stayed in a town deep within the former Riverlands. Summer has a way of bringing the joy out in people, though, particularly when winter is as long and harsh as it is. With times as hard as they are, they have to seize whatever opportunities they get to enjoy life to its fullest extent.

Catelyn strides across the room to embrace Joanna, who returns the gesture before offering Catelyn a cup filled to the brim with wine. Another cheer goes up when Catelyn raises her glass in a toast, and everyone around Jaime drains their glasses before moving to refill them as a second round of bottles is passed around the room.

“Are all summers like this in King’s Landing?” Jaime asks once he makes his way back to Brienne at the bar. The two goddesses have disappeared into the crowd, who’ve turned their attention to two men drunkenly singing The Bear And The Maiden Fair as loudly as possible.

Brienne nods, handing one last cup to a passer-by before leaning against the bar and looking out at the crowd. “For the most part, yes. We try to take every opportunity we can to enjoy ourselves, since the winters are so hard. You’ve travelled quite a bit. Is it the same everywhere else?”

“Pretty much. That mindset seems to be consistent across Westeros. Although…” He trails off before nudging her shoulder gently. “You could change that, if you finish your song.”

She laughs loudly, more uninhibited than he’s ever heard her before. “That won’t happen in summer. There’s too much to do, with the harvest and gathering food before winter sets in, and Catelyn will need all the help she can get if things continue like this at the station.”

He nods, shifting until he stands next to her in front of the bar. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m staying until winter, then. You two will have one more person to help out here, should you require my assistance.”

Brienne laughs again, and Jaime once again finds himself unable to speak in the face of her delight. “We’ll both be glad for it.” She glances around the room briefly before speaking again. “I should get some more glasses from the back. Be back in a bit.”

She vanishes through the door behind the bar, leaving him to watch the men finish their song and bow dramatically to the delighted crowd surrounding them. 

“So you intend to stay in King’s Landing for the summer,” Catelyn says, appearing out of nowhere beside him and making him jump in surprise. “Interesting.”

He frowns and turns in her direction. “Why do you say that?”

Catelyn takes a step closer to him, lowering her voice when she speaks again. “I know what you are, Jaime,” she murmurs, almost too quiet to be heard over the noise of the room around them. “I know what haunts you. And I know that you’ve been wandering for a long time, unwelcome wherever you go and unable to stay anywhere for long. What would make you remain here now, after all those years of running?”

“Brienne asked me to,” he says, raising his hands in a half-shrug. “I couldn’t…I didn’t want to tell her no.”

“Ah.” She raises an eyebrow at his words, a small smile crossing her features. “I see how it is. Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around for a little while. Enjoy yourself while summer lasts.”

He gapes after her as she vanishes back into the crowd. _What did she mean by that?_

Before he has a chance to process Catelyn’s words, Joanna comes up beside him and studies him with a mournful gaze. “I know you,” she says after a moment. “From a long time ago. What are you doing here, of all places?”

Jaime bites back a grimace and attempts to smile at Joanna. She isn’t at fault for what went down all those years ago, but seeing her here brings back memories he’d much rather keep hidden. “I’m looking for a place to spend the summer,” he responds quietly, unable to meet her eyes, “and King’s Landing is the only place that’s welcomed me in a long time.”

She nods with the wisdom of someone who knows exactly why he doesn’t feel welcome anywhere. Though of course she’d understand better than most. As Tywin’s wife, she knows what it’s like living under his control just as well as Jaime does. 

“I understand,” Joanna says, glancing down at the drink in her hand. “My husband’s a hard man, unforgiving of those who cross him. Though at least you get to enjoy the freedom of Westeros, rather than the oppressive Underworld down below. I sure wish I had that kind of punishment.” She grins, her expression lopsided and drunken, before raising her glass in a mocking toast. “Here’s to making the flowers blossom in spite of Tywin’s wishes, and here’s to a summer of wine and revelry!”

Jaime dips his head and watches her drain her cup, only taking a small sip from his own. She claps him on the shoulder and rejoins the celebrating crowd, stumbling slightly from the effect of the alcohol.

_She wasn’t like this before._

Brienne returns from the back room, leaving two boxes filled with glasses on the bar counter and rejoining him in front of it. “Everything good out here?” she asks, nodding towards the gathering before them. “You seem a bit…shaken.”

He offers her a tentative smile, though he doubts it’s convincing. “Everything’s fine. I’m…just not used to staying in one place for this long, I guess.”

She frowns. “I thought you’d have no trouble finding somewhere to stay. You’re healthy and a good worker, and most towns are more than willing to take in travellers for months at a time.”

 _If only you knew,_ he thinks sadly. Those other travellers don’t come with the Fates on their tails, or the Stranger hunting them down. Those other travellers don’t have a dark past tangled up with the gods and the destruction of the Westeros that once was.

“They are,” he says after a minute passes. “I’m more comfortable on my own, though. Or so I thought, until I came here.”

Brienne’s flushed cheeks and shy smile are more than worth the heartbreak he’ll have to endure when winter comes, he decides. And who knows? Maybe, this time, he won’t let the Fates chase him out so easily.

Maybe this time he can have a chance to build a life in Westeros after years of being alone.

_You might say it was in spite of herself  
That this young girl decided to stay…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you want a sense of the staging of the actual song, the cast did a performance on the [Today show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ6bih9esxY) back in 2019. and if you want to know what Joanna looks like in this fic, [the photo in this article](https://www.wnyc.org/story/review-hadestown-play-heavenly/) is pretty much it.
> 
> I'm going to be out of town for the next couple days, so I'm posting this at 5:30 in the morning like most reasonable people do. although I wouldn't know.
> 
> find me on Tumblr as potatothecat.


	7. All I've Ever Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I was alone so long..._
> 
> in which Jaime makes a confession, Brienne makes promises she can't keep, and Catelyn lurks in the background complimenting herself on her matchmaking skills

_I was alone so long  
I didn’t even know that I was lonely…_

The weeks of summer pass in a daze, bright sunlight and a rainbow of flowers instilling new life into King’s Landing and its inhabitants. Some days Brienne rises early and heads out to join the other people in the fields and forests, other days she stays back at the station and helps Catelyn with whatever group happens to be free of duties and eager to celebrate summer while it lasts. Still other days see her wandering down to the riverside, guitar in hand and a song in her head. 

On all of those days, the constant is Jaime’s presence at her side. As the weeks slip by, the dark shadows in his eyes lighten and he no longer looks over his shoulder as often as he did when he first arrived. He’s done his best to avoid interacting with Joanna, but given the goddess’s tendency to be drunk more often than not Brienne can’t truly hold that against him. His stay in King’s Landing seems to have been good for him, much better than wandering across Westeros alone without any way to prepare for winter.

Today, Catelyn’s released them from their duties at the station, telling Brienne to enjoy the warm weather before summer comes to an end. For once, they haven’t gone to what’s become their spot by the riverbank, instead making their way through the streets where houses have been rebuilt before trekking into the ruins of the old city. The summer sun beats down on their backs as they walk, but neither of them complain about the heat. They know better than that.

“Where are we going again?” Jaime asks, bounding over a pile of rubble in order to catch up with Brienne’s slightly longer strides. His eyes dart around, scanning the ruins around them as if he’s looking for threats. He’s ill at ease in the old city, though Brienne can’t fathom why that would be. If anything lives here now, it won’t bother anyone without food.

“There’s a place here I want to show you,” she tells him, slowing her steps as they approach the rubble where the Red Keep once stood. "Catelyn showed it to me when I first came to King’s Landing, and I sometimes come here in summer when I have a day to myself. You’ll love it, I promise.”

Without waiting for an answer, she forges ahead. Urban legend in the new city claims that potent wildfire lies beneath the ruins of the Keep, and she has no desire to find out if that theory’s true or not. Fortunately, their path skirts around the ruins, although they’re forced to pick their way around a great deal of debris as she leads them towards the back of the destroyed castle.

“We’re not going to go in the Keep, are we?” Jaime asks after a while, sending a nervous look at the foundations beside them. “It can’t be safe.”

“It’s not,” she agrees, “which is why we’re not going in there. Even the scavengers don’t go in there, not that there’s anything worth stealing after the old city fell.”

He nods, still looking anxious, but continues following her without further questions. Soon enough, they’re walking through the overgrown tangle that used to be the carefully tended gardens, leaving the rubble behind with the foundations of the old city.

She ducks under a low-hanging branch and steps into a clearing, where flowers of every sort grow in great bushes, wild and tangled together in a great archway over one of the few structures still standing. The area is a rainbow of colour, even the grass overflowing with flowers growing thick and fast in the warmth of summer.

“Holy shit,” Jaime says from behind her, his jaw dropping when she glances back at him. “I see why you said I’d love it here.” He turns in a slow circle, staring at the vibrant clearing around him. “This…this is gorgeous.”

Her lips quirk upwards in a small smile as he gapes at their surroundings. “I wish it was like this all year. The flowers only blossom in summer, sadly.”

Jaime grins, bright as the sun shining down on them both. “I could stomach trekking through the old city again if it means returning to this place.” He sits down on a moss-covered bench, his eyes still roving around the clearing. “It’d be worth walking past all those ghosts.”

Brienne sits next to him, careful to leave an appropriate amount of space between them. “You don’t like the old city very much, do you?”

He shakes his head, lowering his gaze to stare at his clasped hands. For a moment, they’re both silent, the only sound a bird trilling somewhere within the garden. 

“I was here,” he says abruptly, keeping his gaze fixed on his hands. “When…when everything happened. I was in the city.”

Her eyes widen. “That was _years_ ago. You can’t possibly be that old.”

“It really wasn’t that long ago, though,” he responds, his tone wry even if his expression is somber. “You would’ve been a child by then. It just feels like forever ago, with everything that’s happened since.”

“Fair enough,” she says, letting the matter drop. She _had_ been a child when everything went down and two of the gods fell, and while Jaime’s definitely older than her he’s not _that_ much older. “But you know what happened here, then?”

He laughs, the sound bitter and humourless. “I had the misfortune of being in the Keep when it all went to shit. I’ve been avoiding King’s Landing as much as I can ever since, but eventually you run out of other places to go.”

“I didn’t think anyone in the Keep survived.”

“Some did.” Jaime raises his head and looks out into the garden, where the bird still chirps merrily. “Though I think it would have been easier if I hadn’t.”

She sits silently, uncertain of what to say next. Jaime’s revelation has rendered her speechless, with too many questions she wants to ask and too much fear of the answers to ask them. “Why do you say that?” she finally settles on asking, afraid to dig any deeper.

He lets out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I keep telling myself I should have done something sooner. If I had, maybe I would’ve been able to keep it from happening. If I’d acted the moment I knew something was wrong, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“You were one person,” she points out. “What could you have done to stop the apocalypse from coming?”

“Because the gods brought it on,” he says quietly, so soft she has to strain to hear. “Or one of them in particular did. The end of the old world didn’t come naturally. It was brought on by the Father, Aerys, when he finally cracked under the strain of his power and immortality. When he decided that the entire world needed to burn, gods and humans and everything in between.”

The bird continues to sing its cheery tune, a stark contrast to Jaime’s dark words and tone. “I was staying in the city on my father’s behalf, in order to appease Aerys. I saw the signs, and I didn’t act until it was far too late.”

“Wait,” Brienne interrupts, frowning thoughtfully. “Why would your father need to appease the Father, one of the gods?”

“Catelyn didn’t tell you?” He arches an eyebrow in her direction. “My father is also one of the gods. I have the _great_ fortune to be a child of the Stranger himself. I thought she would have told you that.”

“You’re a demigod,” she breathes, wanting to smack herself for her stupidity. _Of course he is. No human is that handsome._

It does make more sense now, knowing that. Though why would Catelyn have kept that information from her? The demigods aren’t much different than normal humans, especially now that the fall of the gods took most of the magic out of Westeros. 

Jaime smiles slightly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mind you, she has no reason to like me after what happened. My failure got her husband killed and her children scattered.”

“But what _happened_?” she asks, weary of his insistence that he’s at fault. “You said the Father wanted the entire world to burn. How was that supposed to go down?”

The bird trills again, masking his second sigh. “You’ve heard of wildfire, yes?”

She nods. “The substance the gods use to protect their realms. I’ve heard of it. The rumour goes that there’s massive stores of it beneath the ruin of the Red Keep.”

“The rumour may not be that wrong.” He huffs out a rueful laugh, running one hand through his hair. “Aerys loved wildfire. Too much, as a matter of fact. As his mind began to fracture under the weight of it all, he grew more and more obsessed with it, demanding that it be placed everywhere around the Keep and the entrance to the realm of the gods. Eventually, he began ordering his worshippers to place it underneath the other great cities, under the Kingsroad, everywhere he could hide it in Westeros. His plan was to ignite it all with his powers in one great explosion that would take out all of Westeros in one massive blow, gods and humans and everything they’d built. But he couldn’t hide that much wildfire forever.

“I wasn’t the only one who began to suspect, though I don’t know if anyone else acted on their suspicions. When I realized what Aerys was planning to do, I went to my father and begged him to act before Aerys destroyed everything. He didn’t believe me, though. He laughed me out of the room and told me I was imagining things. So I went to the Smith instead, Catelyn’s husband, even though he thought me just like my father. I told him about Aerys’s plan, and he…well, I don’t know if he _believed_ me, but he at least bothered to check and see if I was right about the wildfire. When he saw how much had been gathered, he sent me with a group of his own worshippers to begin removing it, and he went to confront Aerys.

“It took Aerys a long time to grant Ned an audience, which allowed my group to remove most of the wildfire from the Kingsroad and the surrounding areas. I briefly returned to King’s Landing to get a map of the other areas where it was, which happened to be the day Aerys consented to meet Ned about the wildfire. It also happened to be the day Aerys had been waiting for.”

He pauses and takes a deep breath in, his eyes looking very far away, back into the past. “I was young enough at the time to not understand what was happening at first. Not until it was too late to do anything about it. But that meeting went wrong, or something else happened, and Aerys reached out with the full might of his godly power and ignited all of that wildfire we hadn’t gotten to, blowing entire cities to smithereens in a matter of minutes. I was in the Red Keep, steps away from the throne room, and the whole thing suddenly exploded around me. 

“I still don’t know how I survived that explosion. Maybe my father protected me from the Underworld, maybe I had enough of my own power left to shield myself from the worst of it. All I know is that I didn’t die, but Aerys and Ned both did along with most of the population of Westeros. Ned had told Catelyn and their children to flee the city prior to the explosion, but in the chaos afterwards she was separated from her children and hasn’t seen them since. Us demigods lost what little power we had unless we chose to become gods in our own right like the Fates did, and my father began amassing more and more power down in the Underworld. Ever since then, I’ve been wandering Westeros, alone and unwelcome no matter where I go.” He stops speaking for a moment and raises his head, looking Brienne dead in the eye for the first time during his entire speech. “Until you.”

She freezes in place. _What is he saying?_

“I’ve been alone for a very long time,” he continues, still looking directly into her eyes. “And all that time I thought it was fine. I began to assume I was meant to be a loner, that I was better off without anyone else around to slow me down or hold me back. But then I came here, and I met you, and I realized how wrong I was.”

“Jaime,” she whispers, unable to say anything else. _Terrified_ to say anything else.

He barrels on, barely pausing at her interruption. “For all of those years, I took care of myself and didn’t care about anyone else. I couldn’t afford to. I thought it made me weak. After all, I’d been led astray by my love for my family when the old world fell. So I embraced the cold, the darkness, told myself it was what I deserved after my failure to stop Aerys. I let myself forget what it was like to stand in the sun and truly live, and I told myself that merely surviving was enough for me.”

She nods shallowly, still unable to speak. She understands how Jaime feels, at least a little. In the darkness of the long winters, it’s easy to forget the warmth of summer, of family, of close friends—even if she’s never had very many of those. It’s much easier to focus on surviving until the next winter, even if it comes at the cost of happiness.

“I don’t want to be alone any more,” he says, then blanches. “I…I didn’t mean to say all of that.”

Brienne barely avoids flinching back at his words. _Of course._ He would never feel anything more than friendship for her, much like all the other beautiful men who pass through the station and Catelyn’s care. Why would he, when he could have virtually anyone else who wanted him?

“Not that I didn’t _mean_ any of it, though,” he hurries to add, stumbling over his words. “It’s only that I hadn’t planned on telling you like this. Or, well, ever.”

“Why not?” she asks, desperately longing to reach out to him but too terrified to make the attempt. “Surely I’m not that intimidating.”

It’s a poor attempt at joking, but Jaime laughs anyways. “No, it’s less that and more that no one has ever wanted me to stay before. I was afraid that by telling you, I’d mess it up and you’d tell me to leave. And I really, really don’t want to leave, Brienne.”

At last, she reaches out and places a hand on his arm. “I won’t make you leave, Jaime,” she tells him, her heart lifting at his tentative smile. “I swear it.”

She doesn’t deserve him. He’s a beautiful man with a good heart, who tried his best to save the world but simply couldn’t get anyone to listen to him. He’s the son of a god, with the possibility of immense power in front of him should he choose to return to his father’s service. Why would he ever want to stay with her?

He does, though. And here in this clearing, with the sun shining down and flowers all around them and a bird singing cheerily in the distance, it’s much easier to believe than it would be in wintertime.

“I wish summer would last forever,” he murmurs, shifting his arm so he can take her hand in his own. “I don’t want winter to come and send us back into the dark. Everyone leaves in the dark, once the wind changes. I don’t think I can handle it if you do the same.”

“I won’t,” she tells him, squeezing his hand gently. He still looks skeptical, and she does it again. “I _won’t_ , Jaime. I won’t let the wind change and drive us apart. I promise. And I won’t leave you either, no matter what happens once winter comes. Nothing will come between us any longer. I won’t let it.”

He smiles again, so much softer than the sharp grins he wears back at the station and in the new city. Then he shifts on the bench in order to face her, and before she knows what’s happening his lips are on hers.

The kiss is soft and gentle, far more than she’s ever hoped for in her years in King’s Landing. For a minute, maybe two, she forgets everything but the feeling of Jaime’s lips pressed against hers, his free hand coming up to gently cradle her cheek, their other hands still linked and resting on the mossy bench.

Eventually they both draw back for air, though their foreheads remain pressed together. He’s still smiling as he looks at her, and for the first time since he arrived there’s no hidden darkness in his eyes. Deep within the garden, the bird continues to trill away, as if it’s serenading them here in their clearing, far away from the rest of the world. 

A thought strikes her, and she laughs. Jaime draws back a little, his brow furrowed, though his expression is still content. 

“Why are you laughing?” he asks, his eyes looking concerned. “It wasn’t _that_ terrible, was it?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she says breathlessly, fighting to regain control of herself. “Catelyn’s going to be so smug when we get back, though. She’s been looking at us oddly for weeks, and actually asked me the other day when I was going to do something about your hopeless pining.” In truth, Catelyn had confronted her about her _own_ pining. But she’s not ready to tell Jaime exactly how she feels yet. She needs more time for that to happen.

He grins again, carefree and joyous. “I did think she suspected something. Well, we should make sure she’s not disappointed in her ward.”

Brienne hesitates for a moment, but then he leans in again and everything else is forgotten. Her doubts vanish to the back of her mind, and don’t resurface for the rest of the day, which is spent in the clearing with vibrant blooms on all sides and the summer sun glowing warm and welcoming in the clear blue sky.

_Now I wanna hold you, hold you close  
I don’t wanna ever have to let you go…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the spirit of honesty, I have to admit I don't actually like this song very much, but it's [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4WaFtJh95w) if you want to determine how you feel about it.
> 
> this chapter terrified the hell out of me (still does), partially because it's the longest chapter in this to date and partially because I don't think I've written anything like this before and it's very daunting.
> 
> my dumbass move of the week involved plotting out a potential sequel for this fic when I haven't finished it, so I may not be making much progress in actually writing this but oh well. good thing I'm like four chapters ahead in terms of writing, otherwise this won't ever get done.
> 
> find me on Tumblr as potatothecat


	8. Way Down Hadestown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _On the road to hell there was a railroad track..._
> 
> in which Joanna complains about her husband, the Fates prove themselves to be an excellent PR team, and Tywin makes a hell of an entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, posting two things in two days? it's more likely than you think!
> 
> also yes, I am making a joke in the summary. is it funny? probably not, but I'm keeping it anyways.

_On the road to hell, there was a railroad car  
And the car door opened and a man stepped out…_

No one in King’s Landing expects summer to last forever. Few even expect it to stretch out for the full six months it’s supposed to. But that doesn’t keep them all from groaning in collective disappointment when the train whistle blares again, a mere four months after Joanna’s arrival in King’s Landing.

From his position by the station’s bar, Jaime is well situated to view the anger and resigned looks traded throughout the room. Catelyn and Brienne stand close by, exchanging worried looks as grumbles continue to spread throughout the room. He imagines that they’ve had trouble before at the end of summer, with disgruntled humans attempting to approach the Stranger and make bargains for a few more days of summer, a little while longer to harvest their crops. If he knows anything about his father, those pleas were always fruitless.

“He’s supposed to give us six months with the Mother aboveground,” a nearby man says loudly, catching Jaime’s attention. “That wasn’t six months, though. It’s barely been four!”

“Eight months of winter,” an old woman sitting at the same table says, shaking her head with a somber expression. “How are we supposed to survive eight months of cold and darkness?”

“The gods are trying to kill us all off,” another man with immense height and a massive build growls. “They’re trying to finish what they started years ago with the destruction of our cities and everything we worked so hard to build. We can’t let them do this to us!”

Catelyn blanches at that, but doesn’t step forward to counter the man’s accusations. 

As everyone continues to complain, Joanna stumbles out from the station’s back room, her flask raised in a mocking toast. “Are you excited?” she slurs, nearly colliding with Jaime in her path to stand by Catelyn and Brienne. “My husband returns to take me away to the Underworld, with summer soon to follow. Aren’t you eager to experience the wrath of winter for far longer than you should be? If you ask my _beloved_ husband, the answer is yes!”

He steps back as Brienne catches hold of Joanna’s shoulder and steadies her before the goddess falls. Outside, the train whistle sounds again, sending another round of groans through the room.

The old woman who spoke earlier raises her head and locks eyes with Catelyn, still standing near the bar. “Lady Catelyn,” she calls, causing those around her to fall silent at last. “I know the Underworld is not the true realm of the dead, merely the home of a god and those who serve him. But I do wonder what it is like in the Underworld, since the old tales claim it’s so different from the Seven Hells. Would you tell us?”

Catelyn nods, a mournful look in her eyes as she steps down from the raised platform the bar sits on. “Some say there is no difference between the hells and the Underworld any longer,” she says, her raised voice catching the attention of the rest of the room. “It’s difficult for us up above to ascertain the truth, though, because no one who takes the train down to the Underworld ever returns. The exception is our dear Lady Joanna, of course, but she does not like to share the stories of her husband’s home with us.”

She pauses as the door swings open and three women clad in long grey dresses stride in, coming to stand in a row by the unlit hearth. Joanna steps forward upon their entrance, her eyes blazing with anger as the train whistle blares again, closer and louder than the first two times.

 _No,_ Jaime thinks as the Fates exchange smug smiles. _You can’t drive me out this time. I won’t let you win._

One of the Fates, with curly dark hair and darker skin than either of her sisters, steps forward and pulls Joanna’s suitcase out from behind her back. “It’s time to go,” she sing-songs, her sisters tittering as Joanna’s eyes flash once again.

“Your husband calls you home,” adds the Fate with pale hair and violet eyes, picking up a bottle of summer wine and dropping it into the bag.

“You have everything you need in here,” the third Fate says, gesturing to the suitcase and tossing her golden hair over her shoulders. “There’s no need to look for anything else.”

Joanna sends one last glare at the Fates before turning around to face the old woman. “You wanted to know what the Underworld is like,” she snarls, her lip curling in disgust. “Well, I’ll tell you. It’s a dull, boring place, with all the workers plugging away at their tasks and disregarding anything else, with my husband solely focussed on his wall and his empire, with only my wine to keep me entertained during the dark months down below. Sure, you could have all the riches under the earth. But at what cost, when you have to live with the dull and the greedy and those who wish they were dead?”

 _All the riches under the earth._ It’s a tempting thought. If he had that kind of wealth, he wouldn’t need to go hungry any longer. The people of King’s Landing wouldn’t be forced to provide for another person, stretching their already depleted stores even thinner. Brienne wouldn’t have to choose between finding the day’s food and finishing her song.

The Fates must hear what he’s thinking, because they step forward to counter Joanna’s claims. “It’s a wondrous place, though,” the paled-haired one begins, smiling warmly at a small child hiding behind his mother’s legs. “All of the silver and gold you treasure so much, it comes from the Underworld.”

“Everything shines down below,” the golden-haired Fate agrees, tossing her head again. “It’s all glittering metals and polished gems, gleaming in the light of the electric city and the great wall of Lord Tywin.”

“All of your wishes come true in the Underworld,” the dark-haired Fate says, sending a kind smile to a rail-thin young man near the front of the room. “The riches of Lord Tywin make it so.”

“But at what cost?” Catelyn demands, echoing Joanna’s earlier words. “The workers slave away to service Tywin’s empire, working without pay or rest day and night for years on end. They flee to the Underworld to escape the death that awaits them here in Westeros, yet they end up working themselves into their graves anyways when they arrive down below. Tywin’s glittering empire is bought with thousands of lives. Those riches come with bloodstains all over them.”

“Wouldn’t it be sweet to have them, though,” a woman muttered from somewhere near the hearth. He shared the sentiment, though knowing his father the price for his riches would be far too steep for any of the people here to be able to pay. 

“The cost is too great anyways,” Joanna crows, as if she knows what thought pass through his mind. “If you want a fortune, you’ll sacrifice something of the same value in return.”

Catelyn nods her agreement, even as the Fates laugh mockingly. “Lord Tywin will take your life and bind it to his service, chaining you up as effectively as a prison cell. Your wishes will be of no use then, not in the face of a greedy god who seeks more wealth, more power, and nothing else at all.”

The train whistle blasts again, even louder than the previous one. Brienne shuffles closer to Jaime as the goddesses and the Fates continue to argue, the people of King’s Landing glancing back and forth between them.

“Is it true?” she asks him quietly, nodding towards Joanna and Catelyn. “What they’re claiming. Are things really so harsh down in the Underworld?”

“I don’t know,” he says with a sigh. “They weren’t when I was there last. But that was shortly after the old world fell, before the seasons began to change. My father’s always been a greedy man, but he didn’t have that much power. I can hardly imagine what that must be like.”

“I don’t think I want to,” she says, shuddering. “Not if it comes at such a steep cost.”

 _Everything would be easier, though. We wouldn’t ever have to go hungry again._ He can’t say that to her, though. Brienne only sees his father’s wealth as dirty, stained with blood. While he doesn’t disagree, the prospect of an eight-month winter is sobering enough to have him seriously considering returning to his father’s realm.

Or it would, if that didn’t mean leaving Brienne behind. 

The whistle sounds one last time, and the train rolls to a stop right outside the station. Even the squabbling goddesses fall silent then, with every head turning to face the door. A minute passes before it swings open, admitting a tall, white-haired man dressed in a pinstripe suit and long grey jacket. Dark glasses hide his eyes from view, and he wears a stony expression as he glances around the ramshackle station before his eyes settle on Joanna.

She steps forward, glaring fiercely at her husband while the Fates deposit her belongings at her feet. “You’re early,” she growls, her power rising up within her like a snake about to strike. Everyone around her leans back to avoid her wrath, everyone but her husband.

Lord Tywin, the Stranger himself, merely raises an eyebrow at his wife’s fury. “I know,” he says, voice deep and echoing throughout the room and far too familiar to Jaime. “But I missed you.”

Joanna glares at him once more before shrugging her coat on and snatching up her bag, ignoring the hand Tywin stretches out towards her. The Fates smirk in unison as the two gods circle each other slowly, before they turn their heads to where Jaime and Brienne stand side by side.

“Shit,” he whispers as they smile triumphantly in his direction, reaching out blindly for Brienne’s hand. _Why do they look like they’ve won?_

“Lord Tywin has so much power,” the golden-haired Fate says quietly, taking a step forward.

Her dark-haired sister copies her mere seconds later. “He must be doing something right, to have so much wealth amid all this despair.”

“It’s almost like he owns everything both above and below,” the pale-haired Fate agrees, tilting her head to the side.

“Don’t you eve wonder what that must feel like?” they chorus with one voice, causing Jaime to blanch. He has wondered how his father feels, having all the wealth in the world at his fingertips. What is it like to know you’ll never have to go hungry again, to know that there’s no need to scramble for food and shelter day after day after day?

Before he can respond, Brienne steps in front of him, her fierce blue eyes boring into the Fates in a silent challenge. The three other women step forward once again in a menacing movement, but she refuses to flinch or look away. Another beat and they turn away to circle Tywin and Joanna as they walk towards the door, never once glancing at each other as they depart the station.

Catelyn sits down heavily in the nearest chair once the door slams shut behind her fellow gods, looking as if the weight of all her immortal years has suddenly appeared on her shoulders. “Down to the Underworld they go,” she whispers, her words nearly drowned out by the blast of the whistle and the sound of the engine roaring to life. “And now we wait for their return, and the cycle begins anew.”

_Everybody tryin’ to get a ticket to go  
But those who go they don’t come back…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way Down Hadestown is quite literally my favourite song on the OBCR. you can find out why should you choose to [listen to it](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yokR4_Q1nEM). 
> 
> making Tywin into Hades was the best decision I ever made regarding this fic and I'm extremely proud of this galaxy-brained move. you can't change my mind.


	9. A Gathering Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With Persephone gone, the cold came on..._
> 
> in which winter returns, Jaime worries about their food stores, and Brienne goes on a songwriting retreat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is going on hiatus for a while, mainly due to the fact that I haven't felt inspired with this one for quite some time. I'm not abandoning this--I'm still very fond of the idea and would like to finish it someday--but it's going to be left in limbo for an indefinite period of time while I work on other things instead. I can't guarantee how long it's going to take for me to return to this, as it depends on when I find the inspiration to work on it again. This could take a few weeks or a few years, but until I tire of this idea I'm not abandoning it any time soon. I will be writing and posting other things, and I have plenty of different ideas waiting to be completed (somehow I've managed to end up with 3 [!] other WIPs right now), but this fic will remain incomplete until I find the muse with this one again. Thank you to anyone who's been reading along with this one so far, and I hope you're willing to wait a while to see how this one resolves itself.
> 
> If you have further questions on this, I'm willing to answer them on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/potatothecat).

_He came for her too soon  
It’s not supposed to be like this…_

A cold gust of wind sweeps across King’s Landing, sending fallen leaves swirling in its wake as Brienne hurries towards the railway station, pulling her coat tighter about herself. Lady Joanna’s only been gone for a day, but the winter weather has already set in. Most of the farmers predict that they’ll see snow by the end of the week, and that’s them being optimistic about matters.

As she scrambles up the porch stairs, the three strange women who arrived with Lord Tywin’s train glance over at her before returning to their quiet conversation. She doesn’t know who they are or why they’ve come, but they unnerve Jaime and Catelyn to no end. Jaime in particular, though he hasn’t shared why with her. Part of her wants to ask him, but she has a gut feeling that she won’t like the answer.

The women are clearly here to stay, though, as they haven’t shown any inclination to leave King’s Landing in the last day. Despite everyone’s obvious discomfort at their presence, they sit on the porch outside the station, surveying all who go by with smug expressions and whispers among themselves. While Brienne isn’t as discomfited by them as her companions are, she doesn’t like them either, particularly not when they make Jaime so uncertain. He’s become alternately withdrawn and needy over the past day, either shying away from her attention or demanding far more of it than she can afford to give. These women have rattled him deeply, and she wishes there was something she could do about it.

But there’s nothing to be done. Catelyn fears them as much as Jaime does, so she won’t be driving their unwelcome visitors away any time soon. And Brienne’s not about to step in and interfere when she’s seen two goddesses and a demigod shy away in fright at the presence of the three women. She’s not that foolish.

She steps into the station and leaves the women behind, though thoughts of them linger in the back of her mind. Catelyn and Jaime both look up from the table where they’ve been sitting, the red carnation still in full bloom between them. 

Jaime leaps to his feet as she approaches, a frown crossing his face as she shivers. Her body has yet to adjust to the temperature change, even though a fire roars in the hearth and warms the room. Before she can explain this to him, he wraps his arm around her shoulders and tugs her down to sit beside him, studying her with worried eyes until the fire’s warmth forces the cold from her limbs and her shivers subside.

“The cold came on fast, I see,” Catelyn says after a while, glancing outside to the three women on the station’s porch. “It seems winter did not wait for very long to set in.”

“It’s not supposed to happen like that, though,” Brienne replies, her tone fierce. “If Lord Tywin would let Lady Joanna stay up above for the right amount of time, we wouldn’t be dealing with such harsh winters. The cold weather wouldn’t arrive as soon as Lady Joanna departs for the Underworld.”

Jaime sighs heavily, his breath rustling her hair as he shifts his chair closer to hers. “This is how our world is. Until you sing your song and restore the balance we so desperately need, the winters will continue to be long and harsh, and my father will continue to keep summer as short as he possibly can.”

 _I know,_ she thinks. _I know._ The warmth and plenty of summertime makes it easy to forget how unforgiving the winter wind can be, makes it easy to put aside her songwriting for a while in order to spend her days with Jaime underneath the blazing sun. But now, faced with the prospect of eight months of cold and starvation, she wishes she had put more of her efforts into finishing her song back then. How many people will starve to death, now that the final harvest has been brought in? How many will perish from exposure and cold, just like her father did? Will Jaime be willing to stay with her even now that they have no food, no warmth left to share?

In the background, she hears Jaime and Catelyn talking about the stores of King’s Landing, about food rations and firewood and the essentials needed to survive the next eight months until Joanna returns. She tunes them out after a while, staring at the blossoming flower atop the table as if it will find some way for her to bring them out of the cold, some way for her to ensure no one has to starve ever again.

“We’re going to need to find more food somewhere,” Jaime says, catching her attention and pulling her from her thoughts. “I wouldn’t be surprised if winter lasted even longer than eight months. If I know anything about my father, he won’t stop lengthening the time his wife spends in the Underworld until she spends all of her time with him, until winter is all those of us in Westeros know.”

“We can’t survive that,” Catelyn says sombrely, shaking her head. “We can barely survive eight months in the cold, with what limited supplies we have. And with the Fates on our doorstep…”

Jaime blanches at the mention of the Fates, and Brienne abruptly realizes why he and Catelyn dislike the three women so much. “You didn’t tell me our unwelcome visitors were the Fates,” she interjects, looking between them both as she does.

“I thought you knew who they were already,” Catelyn tells her, a little bit sheepish. “I don’t understand, though. Why are they here?”

“Because of me,” Jaime answers, his voice flat and toneless. His arm stiffens around Brienne’s shoulders as he speaks, though he doesn’t pull away from her. Yet. “They always come for me. No matter where I go, they’ll ensure I’m chased out before I have a chance to truly rest. They’ll do it here too, though I wish they wouldn’t. This is the first place I’ve truly wanted to stay in for a long time now.”

Brienne’s heart wrenches at Jaime’s words, at how he darts his gaze away from hers as if he fears her judgement. “I won’t let them drive you out,” she tells him, reaching out to grab hold of his free hand. “If I finish my song, maybe they’ll leave you alone at long last.”

Catelyn smiles at the two of them, though her eyes appear sad. “I wish I could be that confident. The Fates have one purpose, which is to drive us to the worst of ourselves. They prey on our fears and insecurities until we recklessly make choices we normally wouldn’t, until we turn into the worst version of ourselves for fear of losing what we hold most dear. Even us gods are not powerful enough to resist them, for we are as much at their mercy as humans are. If they have set their sights on you, Jaime, then they will not relent until you have succumbed to their wishes for you. Restoring the balance between above and below may not be enough to change that, I fear.”

“I have to try, though,” Brienne says, tightening her grip on Jaime’s hand. “I can’t not try.”

Jaime presses his lips to her cheek briefly, his eyes shining, and Catelyn smiles again, more genuine this time. “You have a gift to offer us,” she says gently. “I am glad to see you refuse to squander it even when all the odds seem stacked against you.”

Brienne thinks of her small room above the bar, of her guitar sitting there and waiting for her to lift it into her arms. A gust of wind rattles the walls of the station, and she thinks of the people of King’s Landing, huddled in their rickety huts, and the people of all of Westeros, cold and desperate and hungry. She thinks of Catelyn, with her perpetually sad eyes and long-lost children. And she thinks of Jaime, hungry and alone, driven from town to town because the Fates won’t allow him to be welcome anywhere. She can’t let all these people suffer. Not when there’s something she can do about it.

She abruptly rises from her seat, startling Jaime when she dislodges his arm from her shoulders. “Where are you going?” he asks, worry in his gaze once again as she turns towards the door leading upstairs. 

“My song,” she tells him, squeezing his hand one more time before releasing it. “I have to finish my song. I can’t let all these people keep suffering.”

He smiles at her, though like Catelyn his eyes are sad and fearful. “Finish it quickly, then.” The room trembles with another powerful breeze, and he flinches. “There’s a storm gathering on the horizon, and we need plenty of food and firewood if we’re going to survive it.”

“I’ll try,” she responds, before stepping away and opening the door. Behind her, Catelyn murmurs something too quiet for her to hear, and Jaime responds in a sharp tone before calling out to her once again.

She doesn’t hear what he says, though. As if in a trance, she ascends the stairs, barely aware of her surroundings as the melody swells in her head and fills her ears until all she knows are the lyrics on her lips and the guitar strings beneath her fingers.

_The wind is changing  
There’s a storm coming on…_


End file.
